


An Artists' Touch

by HeereandThere



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeereandThere/pseuds/HeereandThere
Summary: The Shimada brothers find themselves in the midst of a restless evening that helps them both come to terms with certain events more than they could have anticipated.





	An Artists' Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was pretty much just me writing about the brothers actually wanting to make amends. Yes, I know currently they're still bitter towards one another (Genji kind of forgives Hanzo, but still is irritated by his pigheadedness). So let's just say this is a little bit further down the line, when they're beginning to make progress. It seems kind of out of character, but I'm still keeping it considering the time I put into it.

Another late night spent awake, thinking, sketchbook in hands. Hanzo tapped his pen against the blank page, staring absentmindedly out the window; it was the last page, after all. He didn't want to end it unceremoniously. The only problem was that he didn't have anymore thoughts or ideas to unleash on the paper, which was a first for the first time in several years.

However, his mind wouldn't rest until something were to come out of this sleeplessness.

For a moment or two, he flipped through pages upon pages of drawings, ranging from rough sketches and doodles to full-fledged colored and outlined drawings. It all depended on his mood, the will to draw, or how vivid the concept was in his mind. The ferocity of the piece relied on the ferocity of his thoughts and memories.

"Can't sleep?" Hanzo jerked up, ripped from his thoughts, to see Genji looking at him from the doorway. His brother had taken the removable portions of his body armor off, revealing his face and causing him to need a sweater to warm the still human parts of his body. Hanzo looked at him closely for a second, particularly his scarred, somewhat hardened, face. He could still, plain as day, see the innocence he had stolen away, even if Genji couldn't.

"No," he answered gruffly, not daring to look into his eyes again.

"Me, neither." Genji stepped into the room almost timidly, only taking a couple of small steps. "But I guess that is normal, considering the circumstances." He laughed lightly, but stopped remotely quickly; it was a sensitive subject. "What's that?" He pointed towards the notebook in Hanzo's hand.

Hanzo caught himself abruptly slamming the book shut, causing Genji to recoil slightly. He hoped he hadn't seen anything in it. "Nothing." No, he owed this to him. "Just... My art book."

"Really?" When they were boys, Genji would barge into his room and be all over whatever he was doing until he actually knew what it was. Now, however, he seemed genuinely interested as he crossed the remainder of the threshold to take a seat next to his brother. "I never expected you to be an artist."

"Certain things I faced led me to it. It really helps sometimes."

"Yes. Angela suggested it in the beginning. It only frustrated me. I found letter writing to be much more effective."

In the beginning of wha...? Oh. Right. Mercy had seen to it that Hanzo know how much strife his actions put Genji through. His brother and Zenyatta seemed to forgive him for the act he committed. Everyone else, however, alienated him; after all, Overwatch seemed to be like one big family, and they stood up for their own. Hanzo abruptly redirected the subject mentally. "Letter writing?"

"I was... not happy, to say the least, with the things that had happened to me, along with my new form in the beginning. I had so many things to say to so many people, so I wrote the messages down. I think I have them stored in my room somewhere, but I would not look for them if I were you." He gave a small, wry smile, but it was obvious he wasn't joking. "It helped me tell some people what I needed to most without hurting them. What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you draw?"

"Ah... Nothing special." That was a lie, of course, but this notebook was a manifestation of his thoughts from the past several years. He seriously doubted their bond had been repaired enough so that he could present such things to him. It wasn't even really distrust; he just didn't know how Genji could react.

"Would you mind if I saw?" Hanzo looked straight up at him, and must have looked appalled, seeing as Genji almost immediately put his hands up defensively. "Or not, if you would prefer."

For a moment, it was another awkward silence, just one of many between them since they had reunited. How could two people with a past like theirs just pick up like nothing happened? They used to be so close, inseperable, even, but now a relationship like that seemed impossible to achieve. The very second the first blow was dealt, the bond that connected them had vanished.

That's likely why Genji was taken by surprise when Hanzo extended his arm in front of him, essentially surrendering the sketchbook. It was a test; if he was adamant in his initial view, it would only push Genji further away. However, if he actually revealed its contents, it could possibly help towards being friends again. That is, if it didn't infuriate him.

Taking the book, Genji looked at his brother for a moment. "You're sure?"

"Not particularly, but I didn't make it this far without relying on instinct." He gave a small smile, quite possibly the first one since they came back together.

Almost hesistantly, Genji flipped open to the first page, which was dated a few months after their quarrel. His face fell instantly when his eyes met the picture, and his expression was hard to read before he mumbled "I remember this." He was looking at an image drawn from an old photograph Hanzo had salvaged from Hanamura. It was one of the few times Sojiro had time for his boys; Hanzo was 13, Genji was 10, and they had an entire day in the town with their dad.

Hanzo chuckled a little. "We spent half the day in the arcade, as per your request. You and father faced off in Fighters of the Storm-"

"-and I decimated him."

"He was of another time, another way of life. I doubt our grandfather ever let him near anything of that sort."

"Those games were such a waste of time, but I could not say that I would change how I spent those days." Genji turned the page again and began laughing. It was Halloween just a couple of years before the previous picture, the brothers dressed up in their costumes, watching the celebrations in the city below. Hanzo was 11 at the time and dressed up intricately as a wolf. Genji, on the other hand, at only 8, was clad in a ninja costume (this came from his want to be like their father). They were watching from a balcony at home, Sojiro having been adamant in his stance on making them stay. With so many people there, he had concerns that the Shimada family's safety could be compromised. This didn't stop his sons from dreaming, though.

Most of the pages followed this pattern, products of hazy memories long since past. Genji remembered some, others were more exclusive to Hanzo's memory. Both of them laughed at some, became more solemn at the sight of others. There were drawings of their parents, grandparents, long lost people they could call "friends", those loyal to the Shimada empire... Each were dated a significant time apart. Finally, Genji's eyes landed on one of him in his Blackwatch days; his smile quickly morphed into a frown.

"Reinhardt had plenty of pictures from the old days," Hanzo explained quickly.

"Mmm..." Once again, his expression was difficult to read, up until he flipped the page one more time. It was blank. "Oh." He sounded almost disappointed as he handed the book back to his brother. "I guess I should be heading back to my room, anyway." He did such, though looked behind him upon reaching the doorway to say "Goodnight." 

After he left, sliding the door shut behind him, Hanzo tapped the pen against the paper again, only a few times. Then, he went to work.

***

That night, Genji got hardly any sleep. Not that he normally got much or needed to, being only a fraction human, but this was different from his normal insomnia. This was like sleeplessness he experienced right after his fight with Hanzo; up all night, thinking. Remembering. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed it or wanted it to stop.

After about two hours of the same compilation of memories swimming through his mind, he finally caught himself drifting off. Unfortunately, he jerked awake once more after only 45 minutes of rest, something itching at the back of his mind, like someone was nearby. He checked the hallway, but no one was to be seen. After all, who here would be up at 3:55 in the morning? Well, he could name a few, but that was beside the point.

He shut the door behind him, retreating back into his room and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Maybe he should just give in and call it a morning; training would be murder, but so would trying to force himself to sleep. Not only this, but his current feelings were too complex to get down. After that time with Hanzo, for the first time in a while, he felt... bitter. He wasn't angry, but after remembering the life he had before his own brother betrayed him, he felt different. Did he really forgive him? Or was something still holding him back?

Genji flicked his lamp on, tired of the dim green light from his body being the only thing illuminating the area. He felt like he should talk this through with Zenyatta, but since his master had no need for sleep, he used this time to meditate; it would be rude to interrupt. And of course Angela was human, so her assistance at this time of morning was out of the question.

He sat back down on his bed and glanced around the room with little else to do. Only then did he notice something on his bedside table; a book with a note tied to it. The message was written entirely in Japanese, so he knew immediately who it was from. After all, he was the only one Genji was certain was up at this time.

"I think you need these memories more than I do," was all it said.

It was the sketchbook Genji had been examining in admiration just a few hours beforehand. Upon instinct, he glanced through the pages once more, despite having seen the artwork just recently. It was the same drawings, the same recollections; that is, until his eyes fell upon the final page, which was no longer void of drawings. It was outlined in pen, fully colored, and fully shaded, which seemed to be the peak of Hanzo's dedication. Not only this, but it was an image of him, sitting in the desolate room that was Hanzo's. It was dated that morning; it had just been done.

For a moment, Genji paused, sketchbook still in his hands. Hanzo seemed to be trying now instead of just being bitter. He appreciated the effort, more than his brother could ever imagine. However, it made him realize something.

No, he didn't forgive his brother. Not completely.

But he knew he could.


End file.
